


The Reunion

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:18:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: Pre-Christmassy Dramione Fluff...





	

_The Reunion_

 

It was a cold December evening. The first snow had started to fall and formed a thin white layer on the pavement of Buchanan Road. The light from the book shop windows , the old coffee shop next to it and the tiny church on the corner spilled out onto the street and promised warmth and comapnionship to the witches and wizards that hurried down the road with their coat-collars turned up against the wind. The last autumn leaves, only skeletal reminders, shades of what they had used to be, were shaken from the acorn tree next to the tiny fountain in the church yard.

Hermione Granger's car was a small but sturdy Peugeot. She had bought it cheaply from the previous owner. There had been a couple of things that needed fixing but after she had seen to it, the car had never broken down. She shifted down a gear and let the car roll slightly slower as she came in sight of the houses. Harry had sighed when he had seen she had decided to get a manual. His face had had the same expression it had carried, when he had seen her kitchen-equipment which was as low-tech as anyhow possible. Although he had tolerated her decision to turn her back on the wizarding world after the war and its aftermath, he had never understood her dislike of technical progress. Sometimes he joked that it was a miracle she actually used electricity in her home. He did not understand that the old-fashioned way of living was a reminder for her: A reminder of the amazing, wonderful, yet fearsome and cruel wizarding world.

 

_She had not been able to face a normal life after the war. Not in the way that everybody expected her to. There had been a few interviews. Articles about the Golden Trio had been published. People had expected her to be some kind of superwoman, a role model, an advisor. She had only felt like a really tired eighteen year old. Ron had not been helping either. They had been thrown together by extreme circumstances and it took them about half a year to notice that the only thing they could do for each other was drive the other one nuts._

_When the letter from Draco had reached her after she had escaped a party and come back into her apartment in Diagon Alley in the early morning hours, she had been close to the breaking point. His honest words had struck a chord. She did not even know why she had been so willing to forgive him and even stranger – to join him! She had packed her bags, left a note for Harry and had met Draco in front of King's Cross._

„ _Jump in!“, he had shouted from the driver's seat of a super expensive, old, black Jaguar. She had not even asked him where he had learned to drive. His wand, he explained in the hours that followed, had been taken away by the Wizengamot as a punishment. He was not allowed to purchase another wand. They had also put a trace on him so any attempts to work magic would be registered by the Ministry. And there he had been. Draco Malfoy, a boy who picked all the wrong choices, left with the decision whether he wanted to live his life as a Squib in the midst of wizards that looked down upon him, who was so much more talented than most of them would ever be, or to run away and live the rest of his life in the Muggle World. There had been – and he admitted as much – a third option: To be the tragic hero and off himself._

“ _I was too much of a coward to do that,” he explained to Hermione while the car rolled through the morning mist. “I had the potion ready and everything. I just had to drink it. I just couldn't. I'm not even man enough to do that.”_

_They sat in silence for a while, before Draco spoke again._

“ _I still don't understand why you came. Why you... I mean you're the hero in this.”_

_Hermione had shrugged. The answer would have taken a lot of time and energy. She did not have either. She still held her wand in her hand, her fingers touching the familiar wood.When they crossed a river, she made Draco stop._

“ _Are we both serious about this?,” she asked, before she got out of the car._

_They looked into each other's eyes for what felt like a decade and Draco nodded. She got out and stood at the railing of the bridge for a minute or two. When nothing happened, Draco followed her and leaned against it next to her._

_“You don't have to do this”, he said. “We can still turn around. You can catch a bus or a train back home from the next village and this will never have happened.”_

_Hermione's hands trembled, her lips trembled as well. She looked up and Draco could not help but think that she was the most beautiful human being he had ever known. Suddenly, her hand brushed against his, her fingers intertwined with his._

“ _It is happening, Draco. And I am not turning around again. I made a decision and it was the right one.”_

_She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and hauled her wand into the river. It circled through the air, hit the surface and was carried down the current, out of sight in seconds. She exhaled, then opened her eyes. They were closer to each other than they had ever been before. She tried a half-smile but failed and he pulled her into his arms, holding her while the tears streamed down her face._

_The next months were tough. Both of them had issues adjusting to the Muggle world. At least, Hermione knew her way around. She was a patient teacher. Draco still did not know why she had decided to come with him. Yes, they had exchanged letters after the war. They had also met a few times. But although she had been the closest thing to a friend he had had, he surely had not been as important to her. What with Harry and the whole bunch of Weasleys that were always around her?_

_But – he considered, as he was watching her put the kettle on in the tiny hut that had once been her family's holiday home and where they had settled after a week in several hotels all around the country – she had been just as lonely as him, just as broken as him. And nobody had been there to see it. The Weasley's mourned the death of one of their children and Hermione was there to comfort them all. Harry still had not come to grips with the fact that he was actually allowed to live kind of a normal life now – and Hermione had been there to ground him, when he was close to keeling over with anxiety. She had been the strong woman who just pulled everyone through._

_She had also pulled him through, he thought guiltily. And she had done it happily, gladly._

“ _What is it?,” she asked, setting a cup of tea down in front of him and curling up on the sofa next to him._

 

_These days it was natural that they were close, that her body brushed against his, as she pulled her legs up, that her stray hairs tickled his face. He had never dared to imagine her that close. He didn't remember exactly when his opinion on Hermione Granger had shifted form the Mudblood-hatred his father had taught him to the respect he felt today. Respect... and more than that, which he did not dare to admit._

“ _I was thinking that your helper syndrome will one day get the better of you.”_

_She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder._

“ _You think it was only me who helped you, don't you? You think you're just like Ron and everyone else. You're not, Draco. You might not do it consciously but you give something back. You know when it's bad. You knew it back when we started meeting for coffee. You still know it today. I know you come into my bedroom when I thrash the blankets and scream at night because I am having the nightmare again. I know it, because more than once I woke up and noticed I was clinging on to you for dear life. I don't know if anything in this world can heal me, but it is well possible that you can.”_

 

The snow made it difficult to see through the windshield of the old Jaguar, but Draco was intent on not arriving late. It had been more than a year since she had stormed out of the hut to leave him there. It had been entirely his fault and he knew it all too well. He had thought about a million ways to say sorry and none of them had seemed adequate. They had been great together and he had destroyed it all. He had wanted to destroy it because his self-hatred did not allow a caring friend at his side much less a lover. And so he had told her things that weren't true and he had made sure she believed them. Each word had cut like a knife and at the end of his speech he had severed the bonds that had held them together – at least he had thought he had cut her off.

It seemed like Hermione Granger's good opinion once won was not easy to be lost. It had taken her a year to get over her hurt feelings and her pride, but then she had been the strong and curageous one again and had sent him a letter. It had been short and precise. Be there or be gone. This is your last chance, Draco, he thought. Don't mess it up.

He pulled the Jaguar onto the small lane that led up to the church and saw a tiny car come towards him from the other side. They both pulled onto the parking lot in front of the coffee shop and shut down the engines simultaneously. Draco heaved a deep breath and opened the door. What did you say after a year of silence? Which words could he choose to tell her how much he had missed her and how much he regretted what had happened?

He walked around the trunk of his car and saw her standing behind the Peugeot, Hair messy under the knitted woolen hat, snowflakes settling on the shoulders of her dark jacket.

“Hey,” she said and smiled.

“Hey,” Draco answered.

She covered the ground between them with a firm step. He did not even know how it had happened but the next moment he was holding her in his arms, pulling her close. He could feel her chest heave with every breath through his own coat. They stood in the snow for a few minutes that felt like hours, weeks, months, like the year that had passed and a bit longer. When she finally retreated, she let her hand rest on his elbow, not wanting to break the connection completely.

“Let's go in and grab coffee!,” she suggested, still smiling.

And Draco understood that there was no need for explanations, no need for apologies. She already knew, had probably known for a long while that he had not meant a word he had said. They walked into the coffee shop, got rid of their warm clothes and sat down at one of the three tiny tables.

Outside the snow had begun to fall in huge flakes that looked like big white balls through the window. They watched them in silence for a bit. Draco's hand rested on Hermione's wrist. Her pulse was steady and calm.

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

She nodded.

“I know,” she said. “I missed you, too.”

 

_THE END_

 


End file.
